


Something They Do

by TheTruthBetweenRPF (TheTruthBetween)



Series: Tumblr One-Shots [26]
Category: Castle (TV) RPF
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTruthBetween/pseuds/TheTruthBetweenRPF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn’t something they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something They Do

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a dream I had.

This isn’t something they do.The fancy party at the fancy hotel, and her fancy dress pooled around her hips as she bruises her knees in the fancy bathroom, taking his cock into her mouth.

He didn’t get it, at first, why she was glaring at him like that (not the annoyed glare, no, he knew that one) and pushing him into the bathroom. The bright lights and white marble blinded him long enough for her to push him down onto the closed toilet seat (really?) and he had only started to get an idea of where this was going when her fingers pulled at his fly.

That was when he started to get hard, and he was only halfway there when she pulled him out, wasting no time in wrapping her lips around him.

This isn’t something they do, but at that moment, as she alternates between long sucks with her mouth and brisk strokes with her fist, he can’t figure out why. Because he’s growing harder, fast, and it’s making his head spin.

“Stana, what—”

She cuts him off, snapping, “Shut up,” before going back to town on his cock, and he’s confused. He doesn’t know what he’s done (Is she mad at him? She can’t be, she’s giving him a fucking blowjob.) or whether he should endeavor to fix it, or do it again.

And then he’s not really thinking anymore, because  _fuck_ her mouth is talented, and her enthusiasm is bordering on ridiculous. She does something with her tongue, a sort of swirling, curling lick, and his hips jerk, inadvertently forcing more of his length into her mouth. He feels himself hit the back of her throat, and frantic apologies are on the tip of his tongue (oh god, I’m sorry, please don’t stop, I’ll do anything) but then she  _moans_ around him, a high-pitched noise that almost sounds like she’s coming. He cautiously thrusts again, and the sound that meets his ears (a sort of growling whine) makes him realize just  **how** hot for this she really is.

He reaches for her, moves to tangle his fingers in her hair, but she slaps his hands away and lifts her head to glare at him. (And  **there’s** the annoyed glare.) “Sorry,” he mumbles. He’s not sure what’s okay and what’s not, and she doesn’t seem inclined to actually tell him what the fuck is going on.

She grabs one of his hands and moves it to his cock, looking up at him and firmly commanding, “Keep that hard for me.”

As if he would get soft at his point. Even without the stroke of his own palm, the visual of her standing and giving a shimmy of her hips, causing her dress to fall to the ground, would have kept him rock hard. Because there she is, standing before him, almost completely bare. Strappy stilettos encased her feet, and he’s not normally a foot man, but it’s definitely doing it for him right now. Or it could be the fact that she’s only wearing the shoes and a barely-there lace thong. Which she promptly pushes to the floor.

His mouth waters at the sight of her, and he leans forward instinctively, seeking out the taste of her. She shoots him a baleful look (Seriously, what did he do wrong? And why is she rewarding him with sex?) and pushes him back with one hand on his chest. He abruptly realizes that he’s still completely clothed.

He only has time to push his pants and boxers halfway down his thighs before she’s straddling him, circling her fingers around him and and then—  _ohhh yes_. Sinking down, encasing his erection in tight, silky wet heat.

It’s been a long time since he’s done it without a condom. He tenses at the realization.  _He’s fucking her without a condom._ As if she knows what he’s thinking, she mutters, “Don’t worry, we’re safe.” He wonders how she knew that he was. He wonders why he cares.

She must have sensed his lack of complete and utter attention, because she suddenly clenches around him, and the rush of pleasure makes his eyes close. When he opens them again, she’s watching him with slightly narrowed eyes.

He reaches for her hips, guiding her against him. She again goes to bat his hands away, and he wonders what her problem is. He doesn’t remove his hands. She started this, but damned if he isn’t going to finish it.

She puts her hands on his shoulders for leverage, then lifts up, a slow draw that sends the cool air of the bathroom swirling over his wet cock. He doesn’t like it, so he yanks her back down, filling her with one hard thrust. She shrieks, throwing her head back.

Yes. That’s how it’s going to be.

The pace is fast and rough, and she picks it up immediately, slamming herself onto him. He looks down his body to where they’re joined, and the dichotomy of his clothing and her nudity makes heat shoot through his veins. And yet, despite being the one who is clothed, he feels oddly vulnerable, and that, he decides, is not okay.

He hooks his forearms under her thighs, setting her off-balance so she has to cling to him, and manages to work up the momentum to stand, propelling them into the wall opposite the toilet. He pins her in place with his hips, and she screams, clamping down around him, a flush blooming over her chest and face.

There’s a knock at the door. He ignores it, and she doesn’t seem to hear it through her moaning. She can barely move how he’s holding her, and he likes that, turning the encounter around so that she’s at  **his** mercy now.

Mercy that he refuses to show her as he pounds into her. She peaks again, but he doesn’t let up. Her fingers dig into his shoulders, and he knows by the way she bites her lip that it would be her teeth sinking into that tense muscle, if only she could reach.

He can feel the tightening in his groin, the tingle at the base of his skull, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“Touch yourself,” he growls at her, and it takes her a moment to process the words, slide one hand from his shoulder to between her thighs.

He feels it when she makes contact, the clench around him. He would have known even without the higher pitch of her moans. He swears under his breath, and his groan when he spills into her echoes in the brightly-lit bathroom. She pulses around him, then, her orgasm milking his pleasure from him.

***

Nathan awakens with a start, panting for breath. The shift of the sheet over him draws his attention to the raging hard-on he’s sporting. He swallows dryly, looking up at the ceiling and rubbing a hand over his face.

“Nate?” Stana asks sleepily, rolling over and slowly blinking her eyes open.

“We’re going to have sex in the bathroom at the party tomorrow night,” he says.

“Wha…?” Stana struggles to make sense of his words, before her gaze falls below his waist, and she chuckles a little. “Good dream?”

“You have no idea.”

Humming, Stana climbs on top of him, rolling her hips against his and savoring his gasp. “Why don’t you tell me  _all_ about it,” she purrs as she takes him in hand. “And I’ll see what I can do to take care of this…”


End file.
